


why is it still raining?

by slimeblocks



Series: ghosts in your home [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jack Stauber, Non-Graphic Violence, Other, Rain, all i do is write ghost!punz angst help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slimeblocks/pseuds/slimeblocks
Summary: punz doesn't like the rain.or: an inside look into exactly how punz died, and what followed when he woke up.ghost!punz au ; based on the short "rain" by jack stauber
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: ghosts in your home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080035
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	why is it still raining?

**Author's Note:**

> i'm incredibly sorry 
> 
> ghost!punz concept belongs 2 @NETHERLTEBLOCK on twit <3
> 
> please come to my twitter and send me fluffy concepts for this poor boy HAHAHA

punz wakes up alone.

he doesn’t realise it, at first. he is too disoriented, too tired, too confused. where is he? he doesn’t recognise where he is. there are high walls around him, and he seems to be laying on soft, sticky grass. he can make out colored glass windows if he tilts his head to the left, the bright colors making his head spin.

sitting up is a struggle, even though he does so as slowly as he can. he groans as he manages to properly right himself, stretching out his arms and rubbing his head. he must’ve been laying there for a long time- his muscles feel almost atrophied from disuse, and his entire body aches painfully, especially his neck. he wonders why no one came to get him, but he shrugs it off. it’s not the first time he’s passed out from exhaustion, he’s sure it certainly won’t be the last.

standing up slowly, he tries to crack his neck before looking around, but doesn’t feel anything when he twists his head besides the smooth slide of his neck turning, and the ache persists. sliding a gloved hand to his neck, he rubs at it gently, massaging the sensitive and sore area a little before successfully cracking his spine. the sound and feeling of multiple bones popping in succession tells him that he must’ve been there for a really long time. 

a little less disoriented now, he tries taking in his surroundings again, and begins to recognise the castle, though he’s unsure of who exactly it belongs to, for some reason. as he’s looking around, he realises belatedly that it’s started to rain. he puts a hand out, watching the drops hit his gloved palm, then feels them hit his nose, and his hair, and begin to soak into his clothes as the downpour gets heavier and heavier. he looks up towards the sky, and immediately regrets it- the droplets make his skin sting as they splatter onto his face haphazardly, in the way that rain normally does.

“see, the- the rain is nice, but..” he mumbles to no one in particular, wiping at his face, “i-i don’t really like getting wet.”

it’s not entirely a lie- he doesn’t enjoy being in the rain, or being wet (though he did enjoy the smell). it always ruined his plans and made him feel incredibly dreary. it feels weird now, though, for some reason- the water stinging his skin unpleasantly and making him wince and immediately try to wipe away the droplets. he only really ever liked the rain when he’d finally gotten his trident anyway- it was worth getting wet if it meant he was able to fly.

his trident. where was his trident? he remembered holding it before he’d passed out, remembered it being near him when his eyes had closed, but where was it now? he glances around, not spying the shiny aquamarine object anywhere near him. he throws up a hand to open his inventory, but stops short when he _sees_ his hand, properly, for the first time. his eyes widen as he twists his arm slowly, examining himself more thoroughly, and begins to shake violently, though not because of the cold.

his hand, and arm, are transparent. and when he looks down at himself, properly, for the first tme, he realises that the rest of him is transparent, too.

“wh- wha-” he stutters, taking a step back. he hears a soft crunch as he does. when he turns around to see what he’d stepped on, his face pales. 

grass isn’t supposed to be dark red. 

his chest begins to heave, and he fumbles to pull up his inventory, panicking at the empty slots, looking around desperately for his items, for signs that this is a bad dream, all of it is a dream- it has to be a-

dream.

he remembers dream, remembers being with him, remembers-

dream asking him to walk together, to talk about logistics for their next plan of attack.

remembers dream twirling his axe in his hands as they strode idly towards the castle. he remembers dream guiding him to one of the more secluded areas of the castle grounds, pushing him off of the wooden path, claiming they needed totally security-

he remembers that it was raining then, too, and asking dream if they could head inside the castle to talk there instead, as eret was away for the week, meaning the castle would be empty, that no one would be there for at least a few days.

he remembers dream stopping, and tightening his grip on his axe, head lowering, turned away from punz.

“i know.” he’d said quietly, so quietly punz almost hadn’t heard him over the sound of the rain against the wooden path, against the sound of the wind so loud in his ears. “i know.”

he remembers his back hitting the ground as he screamed, spouting profanities and asking him what the hell he was doing, dream standing over him, the beady eyes of the white porcelain mask staring into him without guilt, without remorse, and raising his axe.

he remembers his eyes widening in realisation as he screamed for dream not to, that he’d been good, that he was loyal to dream, voice lost to the wind as he struggled to stand up, sobbing as dream placed a boot onto his chest. 

and he remembers-

…

he doesn’t want to remember anymore.

he’s hyperventilating now, struggling to breath between gasps and sobs as the rain begins to come down even harder, soaking him further and washing away what little is left of him physically is left, muddying the ground under his feet and making him shake even more. it’s cold, so cold, and the water is beginning to hurt, and punz just wants to be able to _breathe_.

“no, no, no-” he sobs, stumbling under an archway that leads into the castle, barely processing that half of him phases right through the wall as he does. through his tears he can still see the rain coming down, soft and gentle, melting away the remnants of what he has left and leaving him cold and alone in the darkness of the castle halls. he feels something drip onto him, suddenly, and he looks up to see that the roof is leaking, water creeping through the cracks in the old stone, dripping onto his face and mixing with the warm tears tracking down his face.

the feeling almost stings as much as much as the tight ball in his chest as he chokes on his sobs.

“i- i went under th-the awning!” he cries, “it’s still raining! why is it still raining?!”

he sobs, collapsing to his knees. he did everything right, he knows he did. he did what he was told, what he was asked to do. he did so much for dream- he didn’t do anything wrong. he couldn’t have done anything wrong- so why was he here? why him? why did it have to be him? what did he do? _why him_?

“i did what i was supposed to.” he chokes through a sob, voice quiet. he hiccups, gasping quietly and curling in on himself, arms hugging his body. 

“that’s not f-fair." he shouts to no one, beating a weak fist against the ground, "it’s not f-fucking _fair_!”

his hands come up to pull at his hair, and he kneels there, shivering and crying, by himself as the rain keeps coming down, and slowly, slowly, punz can feel himself melting away with the runoff, slowly forgetting what he’s doing there, and why he’s crying, and soon he doesn’t remember anything at all besides his own name and the blurry faces of the people he once knew.

he is truly, truly, alone.


End file.
